If we can’t work together
Then there is no path forward
Nothing for us to look
Forward to
Seeing each other through
In a day
When all the words seem
To melt away
Into the deep grey unknown
Looking for the world
Seeking a home
With each other
One as one
Each our sister
Each our brother
Confusing musings
Of the art
Of distraction
Artificial attraction
The powerful few
Direct their efforts
To distract
The main crew
Abstractions of actions
And intent
No actions made
No messages sent
So how to tell the truth
Of the few
When lying is a standard
Act of the new forces
A metered approach
When the pain
Meets the brain
In moments of doubt
And confusion
Slowed down
To adapt to the motion
Listening to the muscles
Listening to the brain
Moving slow
When we are in pain
Poetry day
Words on the lips
Feelings in the bones
Up the leg
And out the hips
Sunday
A day of reflection
Some say
But today
For me
Is poetry day
Headwinds
When you have skin
In the game
Direct linear regressions
When progression
Is needed to keep
The boats at sea
Afloat
For another day
Coat tails in blasted
Fury
Scurry
With scared hopes
Feelings down
And thin
White marble walls
Clad with grey lines
Sign of the times
Good and indifferent
All in one place
Easy love
Slow pace
Coffee ground
Into finite matter
In the cup
And on the platter
Can we define the future
Decide with knife and suture
What will be remembered
And forgotten
Is the past obsolete
Or a defining feature
Of what growth must be
Debating
What will lead us forward
Or what holds us back
Can we define the future
And be so matter of fact
Some will be dismissed
Some gathered
My own mind
Would rather
Be in the moment
And experience reality
Not technology
Depressions ridden
Alphabetically
Future
Or
Past
What will go
And what will last
Jade of the 60’s
Green in its glory
Floral wishes
Morning territory
A jade in the grass
Amongst the leaves
Of history and preset
Present hope
To find the jade
Lost entirely
Lost amongst the years
And in the crest
Of the oldest tree
Rainstorm sips
Over
Easy
Good to the last drop
Hold the foam
Take away the unknown
Chicago roads
Wet concrete
Bibles
Lay open
On the streets ahead
An inflamed wish
In flames
Of fury
Worried
The news coming through
Is not the hopes
Of the everyday
Joe
Hold the wish
Step on the applause
Coming out of the broken speakers
Tweaking our numbers
To create magic
From a life turned
Tragic
A Cup of Songwriting 